


wonders never cease

by illinois_e



Series: be my rest, be my fantasy [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illinois_e/pseuds/illinois_e
Summary: “i just want to be near you”, nicky whispers, turning his body to where he thinks germany is, somewhere, in a map. erik is too far to hear him (four thousand five hundred and six miles), but aaron and andrew and kevin and neil are not, so he holds their hands and pretends it’s enough.it almost is.





	wonders never cease

**Author's Note:**

> hiya here i come with my first fic for this fandom. i blame sufjan stevens and his damn sad songs for this
> 
> this fic is supposed to be part of a series (which will be better explained in the series' summary, i believe) about aftg fics based on songs from the album carrie & lowell (by sufjan stevens). this one stands for eugene. quote time:
> 
> "since I was old enough to speak, I've said it with alarm  
> some part of me was lost in your sleeve  
> where you hid your cigarettes"
> 
> sufjan stevens — eugene
> 
> (also, its all written in a non-chronological order because my brain cant wrap around this simple concept)

 

sometimes, nicky regretted teaching them german.

and it sucks, truly. nicky wanted to be more like andrew, and strike down the word _regret_ from his vocabulary. then he remembers andrew’s fists falling down on the four men who tried to assault him that night, remember how hoarse his throat was as he screamed for andrew to _stop just stop it's enough_. nicky remembers blood spilling from a cut on his eyebrow, running down his mouth—it tasted like fea

he didn't want to be more like andrew. but then again, he never truly understood what it was to be like andrew, to have a switch inside you that went from 0 to 100 without anyone knowing the whens and the whys and the hows.

he couldn't be like andrew, and so he had his fair share of regrets, as he believed any sane and normal — two adjectives that could not be used to describe his cousin — person had. letting himself be talked into a conversion camp, for example. picking up his mother's phone calls when he already knew what he would ask and what she would answer.

teaching aaron and andrew how to speak german.

because german was supposed to be his, after everything he’d left behind. german was walking down the streets holding hands with another man, quiet laughter in the shell of his ear past bedtime, going to another country and getting lost—going to another country and getting _free_. german was his and erik’s, until it was his and erik's and aaron’s and andrew’s. and even neil’s, it seemed.

you're stupid, he told himself. it's just a language, one that he shares not only with his cousins but with another 200 million people. it's just a language, a bunch of letters and words strung together in a way that doesn't sound half as beautiful as french does—unless it's coming off erik’s mouth, or if you count moaning as part of a language. nicky doesn't.

deep down, he knew he was just making a fool of himself. you can't own a whole language but nicky didn't own anything that wasn’t halfway across the ocean, anything _at all_ , and he had to contend himself with these words he never quite learnt how to make sound right. schmetterling. brötchen. einsamkeit.

 

* * *

 

it was three o'clock when nicky’s phone started ringing to the sound of lady gaga — born this way, if only because aaron pretended he couldn't stand any reminder of his cousin’s sexuality —, and nicky could hear his three roommates groaning at the sudden noise.

he had three, maybe five seconds before andrew reached for his phone and threw it over the window. it happened, once.

nicky picked up his phone as fast as he could and went to the bathroom. he didn’t get a chance to check who was calling him, but there was only one person who would do it in an ungodly hour like that.

“erik?” he whispered, knowing full well that even a wall between them, andrew could hear him clearly. “it’s three in the morning.”

“nicky! i know, i know.” didn’t matter what time it was—as soon as nicky heard his boyfriend’s voice all the sleepiness fled him. “i just… i received some good news and i wanted to tell you right away. i forgot about the timezones. but i’ll call you later, ok?”

nicky didn’t need to be in germany to picture erik pouting at that. “no, it’s okay! i went to sleep early last night. what’s going on?”

“remember that promotion i told you about? the one that had everyone in my department staying awake at night, working from home? so,” nicky remembered, if only vaguely. these days his memory was reaching full capacity, filled with things about andrew and aaron and neil and kevin and exy and college. “boss gave it to me!”

“ _what?_ for real?” he let out, a little louder than he was supposed to. in the room, aaron sweared. “i can’t believe it! i mean, of course i can, because you’re the best employee they have, and i know that. but, you know? wow! i’m proud of you.”

“i know, right! and it’s so good. the money is good, but the better thing is i can take a lot of days off. gotta have some really nice vacations, from now on.”

“will you? i can’t imagine where.” in the other end of the line — in the other side of the ocean — erik chuckled. it was almost a year since he’d heard that sound in person, and god, how did he miss it.

“it’ not a question of _where_ , but _with who_. and let me tell you that i have a beautiful boyfriend waiting for me in america. south carolina, to be precise, and it was him who gave me the strength to make all these extra hours i’ve been cramming at work.”

“do you? i bet he misses you a lot.”

[“nicky!” kevin shouted from the room. “end this call right now!”

“yeah nicky!” aaron followed him. “shut up already!”

andrew remained blissfully quiet, despite being the lighter sleeper of them. nicky loved him for that.

“fuck off!”]

“i’ll have to go, erik. i’m being _threatened_ by my own children.”

“they’re right, nicky. go get some sleep.”

nicky didn’t want to turn off the call, not yet, not when he missed him in every pore of his. “yeah, i guess.”

“hey,” erik said, softly, as if he was talking to something made of crystal, or something he used to dream. “i love you.”

i love you more than you can think of. i love you more than i’ve ever loved someone. i love you as if you'd put all the stars and birds on the sky yourself.

“i love you too. be safe.”

erik ended the call. nicky spent a whole minute looking at the photo of them on his phone's lockscreen before going back to his room.

[“when will you stop spoiling my fun, huh? now i can't even love my boyfriend in peace.”

“you can, nicky.” aaron said. “you can love him _in silence_.”

“shut up. you and katelyn suck each other’s faces in my sight all the time and i’ve never complained. having a long distance relationship is not easy, in case you didn't notice.”

“that doesn't mean you have to flaunt it,” said a muffled voice that sounded almost like kevin’s. “you don't see me calling thea at this hour of the morning.”

“correction: i don't see you calling thea _at all_ , and you've been here for almost two years. that doesn't look like at relationship to me. it's more like when friends do that thing where if both of them aren't married by 30 — because they devoted their whole lives to a sport that does _not_ love them back — then they'll marry each other.”

“ _fuck you._ ”

“kevin, dear.” some days, nicky worried he might be too gay for them. then he remembered aaron’s sneer and kevin’s eye rolling, clear signs of those who had still much to learn and much to endure. “you know you're third in my list of celebrities i’m allowed to fuck, don't you?”

nicky didn’t need to look at him to know kevin was rolling his eyes so much it should hurt. “fuck off, then.”

“love you too.”]

 

* * *

 

nicky was seriously overestimating how many clothes he could fit inside a medium-sized suitcase.

he came to germany with a few shirts and pants, maybe two or three coats, and he was leaving with more than the triple of that. most of it were gifts given to him by erik’s family, when he was staying at their house, or by erik himself, after they moved. nicky’s income as a bartender in a club close to their home wasn't enough to buy all the glittery overcoats he wanted.

leaving. he never thought that word would apply to him, not when everything he’d found in that country begged him to stay. but there he was, sitting on top of his suitcase so he could close it. the ticket on his hand felt heavy as lead—in 10 hours he would be back at columbia, the city where he was born and raised, where he discovered himself and where he was shamed for it. columbia, and the endless prayer over a open bible, his father’s loud voice preaching the word to remind them that his home was nothing but an extension of his church.

columbia, where aunt tilda was dead and where aaron needed him. where aaron’s _twin brother_ — andrew, he remembered — needed him. nicky didn’t think of himself as a good parental figure, but between him and luther, there was no doubt what was best for them.

his cousins.

the last time, he left germany with a return flight already booked. now, he planned to stay at least a year, until the twins graduated high school. but he and erik both knew he would make sure they had their lives kinda sorted out before coming back to stuttgart.

could be a year; could be two, maybe even three.

“well then,” nicky said, trying to break the silence. silences reminded him of too many days were his parents refused to talk to him, to acknowledge the _idea_ of him. “i guess i’m ready. i wish i wasn’t, though. i wish i could just pretend aunt tilda is still alive, and that there isn’t a chance her children might fall into my father’s hands.”

“nicky, listen.” erik sat by his side on the floor, and put his hand over nicky’s knee as if he could stop him from derailing into his thoughts. “i don’t want you to go either. but… knowing all the things i know about your parents, the things they did to you… you’re doing the right thing. and yeah, it’s going to be hard, moving back, but it won’t be forever, okay? and i’ll be here when you come back. don’t you ever think otherwise.

nicky couldn’t help but falling into his knees in front of erik and hugging him. “shit, i’m gonna miss you so much. _so much_ , erik. god, this is just— i don’t know.”

“it’s okay.” erik’s hands rubbed the tense muscles of his back in soothing motions. “i’ll miss you too. _so much_. you have to promise to call me every day.”

“you bet i will. and you have to promise to visit me whenever you’re on vacation.”

“promise.” erik broke away from nicky so that he could kiss his forehead and his mouth. “now, if i remember correctly, you have a plane to catch.”

getting up was so painful that nicky thought about giving up. for a moment, he wanted to think about himself and his life and all the things he was leaving behind—then, he remembered aaron’s face whenever his mom announced a new boyfriend, remembered luther saying how he was already lost anyway, staying away from home all night so he could use drugs with his friends. and if aaron was fucked up, nicky couldn’t even imagine how this andrew, who spent his life in the foster system and juvie, would be.

nicky grabbed the handle of his suitcase as if it wasn’t an one-way ticket to hell. “let’s go, then.”

 

* * *

 

andrew and neil only argued in russian. it made nicky remember all the times kevin passed time looking at the window on the trips to columbia while the rest of them switched to german. it felt strange, being out. nicky spent most of his life trying to be included everywhere he could.

and maybe he could learn russian, if he really wanted to, and if he wasn't afraid andrew might rip his head off with bare hands.

it's their thing, russian. it's their little words, with whatever goes down between andrew and neil (a gangster’s son. sometimes nicky forgets that), as german once was his and erik’s things, when he could whispers secrets to his boyfriend without having to wonder if someone was hearing it.

aaron turned at him and whispered in german, against any sense of self-preservation. “i don't know how andrew managed to saddle himself with two exy junkies for boyfriends and still not give a damn about playing.”

“i’m sorry.” nicky was many things, but he always had a perfect hearing. “two boyfriends?”

“if you don't count kevin as their platonic boyfriend you really lost that gay sixth sense of yours.” upon hearing his name, kevin turned his head, but quickly dismissed their talking as stupid—which, by kevin’s standards, was everything in the world besides exy. “it’s hard to imagine andrew and neil without kevin sulking by their side.”

“you have a point, i guess. but hey, does this means you’re developing a gay sixth sense too?” he gasped for the extra effect.  “are you _bisexual_ , aaron michael minyard?”

aaron switched to english for emphasis. “fuck you.”

“fine,” nicky shrugged. “keep being the token straight cousin. every family needs one.”

some days he regretted teaching german to the twins. most of the time, however, he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

in the soft light of sunrise, erik — with his pale skin and blonde hair — looked like the angels painted on the walls of the church nicky used to go when he was little. he would look at them, flying high in the ceiling, between the clouds, and dream about heaven and eternal life and all the things the minister preached. in his dreams, god would raise a hand to him, tell him what a good boy he was, how he always remembered to water his mother’s flowers every thursday, and how he always shared his toys with their neighbour’s youngest son. god would smile at him while nicky played with the angels between the stars.

his parents would not approve of this angel in front of him, and he knew this. somehow, it didn’t mattered much, not when he was this far away from them and erik was so close he could touch him, trace the scar on his brow — courtesy of lack of attention and a open cupboard door — and soak in his features until they were burned in the back of his eyelids, until all nicky could think about was erik and erik and erik.

and this is what he thinks: a man who disowns his own son for loving too much is not someone close to god.

wind came by the gap in the widow and rustled the curtains. erik blinked an eye open, then the other, and smiled when he saw nicky already awake, looking at him.

“watching me sleep again?” he asked, voice still heavy and drowsy.

“can’t help it.” nicky came closer and, morning breath be damned, gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “you’re very beautiful.”

erik yawned and stretched his arms over his head, like a cat. nicky moved until his head was resting on erik’s chest. “looks like someone’s sappy today.”

“i’m not _sappy_  i’m just… thinking. i guess.”

“so...” erik knew him well enough to understand what that meant, most of times. “thinking… good things, i hope?”

“uh-huh.”

“sure?”

“yeah, sure.” nicky splayed his hand open over erik’s chest, as if he could reach his heart that way. “thinking about how much i’m happy to be here, right now.”

“with me?” erik asked, tone playful. his hands threaded between nicky’s hair like an angel’s caress. nicky thought it couldn’t be more fitting, in a sense.

“yeah,” he answered. “with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love nicky hemmick and i just wanna hug him and protect him from anything evil


End file.
